Your Character's Name: Raymond
The cold of the dead swept through my body as I aimed my gun at dearest Rabies. She had done the unimaginable. She had turned on us. We had a mission: infiltrate the Curators and bring back valuable technology to Franz Draco and the Keepers of the Flame. In exchange, loads of information. Loads of information my party members knew nothing about, but I knew of in its entirety. Draco had made it sound as if his gift to us was mere knowledge of the past, but it wasn’t that at all. No. His reward for our bounty was the single most important piece of information I could ever receive.
I had worked for years dismantling militant groups around America, trying to restore an order to the once proud United States. I had followed in my mother and father’s footsteps, spying on cannibal sects, scrambling android sensors, and restoring a general peace to the superpower that was. The group that I am tracking down now is different. They call themselves the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. They base themselves off of a religious ideal, but I’ve read the Holy Book and I assure you their actions are not spoken by the God they claim belief in. Any lust I have drenched the world in is nothing compared to what these animals do on an hourly basis. The details are filled with acts the great horror writers of old would be ashamed of putting to paperback. That is why I myself will not be doing so. All that anyone should know is that they act as Hell incarnate.
The information Draco holds would bring metaphorical angels from the heavens to wipe out the plague that swallows Rivertown. The Horsemen would see the sun’s light no more, not that they ever cared for it to begin with. This knowledge is what I need to bring back to Mouser, back to the remnants of the CIA. If only my little angel Rabies wasn't in the way my path would be easy. But she was one of them. One of the Curators.
I don’t hold qualms against the Curators. I only see the error in their ways. They're focus: sharp... when it comes to preserving the ways of old. Hoarding the technology of the past so that we don’t forget about it. They live in nostalgia, but they fail to understand that the only way we’ll get back to the days of old is by changing the present. We must move on as a society and build anew instead of boarding ourselves within our once pristine shell. The future will be ours if we can get rid of the sore that buckles us down. That sore is the Horsemen.
I know what it's like to be a Curator. To live in nostalgia. Whenever I dream, I dream of a time I was never a part of and a place I had never been to. California, 1940's. Los Angeles, San Francisco, either or. The images of glamour my parents put into my head has stayed with me to the present. I don't know why they enjoyed noir so much, since they had not grown up in the 40's either. It makes little difference I guess. When you're infatuated by romance, any storytelling device will do. The noir might be the most romantic of them all. The willingness to kill for love, whether that love was a girl or some diamonds, is the purest of loves. Not the cookie cutter love most beings share nowadays, having sex and moving on.
I digress. I'm getting carried away with myself here. The point being, I understand where Rabies stands. I know what it's like to be under the influence of a life better lived, but I don't dare allow my dreams to smog my judgement. To hoard the past and to fight for the future are two different ideals. The Curators do the first, and that is why they find themselves running and defending themselves all the time. I make progress in this world only because building a brighter future means more to me than holding onto past memories.
America has become a bleeding wound because people dream too much, instead of using action. The only way to stop the wound from bleeding is to do what is asked of us. What is being asked of Rabies is not easy, but it must be met with the right answer. She must break with her past and believe in the future that will come after bloodshed and destruction. If she cannot handle it, I will care for her. I will care for her the only way I know how, and it may seem vicious, but it is all I can do to help her help society.
With gun in face she will direct us towards the Curators. Towards the answers. Towards our future.
The cold of the dead swept through my body as I aimed my gun at dearest Rabies. She had done the unimaginable. She had turned on us. We had a mission: infiltrate the Curators and bring back valuable technology to Franz Draco and the Keepers of the Flame. In exchange, loads of information. Loads of information my party members knew nothing about, but I knew of in its entirety. Draco had made it sound as if his gift to us was mere knowledge of the past, but it wasn’t that at all. No. His reward for our bounty was the single most important piece of information I could ever receive.
I had worked for years dismantling militant groups around America, trying to restore an order to the once proud United States. I had followed in my mother and father’s footsteps, spying on cannibal sects, scrambling android sensors, and restoring a general peace to the superpower that was. The group that I am tracking down now is different. They call themselves the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. They base themselves off of a religious ideal, but I’ve read the Holy Book and I assure you their actions are not spoken by the God they claim belief in. Any lust I have drenched the world in is nothing compared to what these animals do on an hourly basis. The details are filled with acts the great horror writers of old would be ashamed of putting to paperback. That is why I myself will not be doing so. All that anyone should know is that they act as Hell incarnate.
The information Draco holds would bring metaphorical angels from the heavens to wipe out the plague that swallows Rivertown. The Horsemen would see the sun’s light no more, not that they ever cared for it to begin with. This knowledge is what I need to bring back to Mouser, back to the remnants of the CIA. If only my little angel Rabies wasn't in the way my path would be easy. But she was one of them. One of the Curators.
I don’t hold qualms against the Curators. I only see the error in their ways. They're focus: sharp... when it comes to preserving the ways of old. Hoarding the technology of the past so that we don’t forget about it. They live in nostalgia, but they fail to understand that the only way we’ll get back to the days of old is by changing the present. We must move on as a society and build anew instead of boarding ourselves within our once pristine shell. The future will be ours if we can get rid of the sore that buckles us down. That sore is the Horsemen.
I know what it's like to be a Curator. To live in nostalgia. Whenever I dream, I dream of a time I was never a part of and a place I had never been to. California, 1940's. Los Angeles, San Francisco, either or. The images of glamour my parents put into my head has stayed with me to the present. I don't know why they enjoyed noir so much, since they had not grown up in the 40's either. It makes little difference I guess. When you're infatuated by romance, any storytelling device will do. The noir might be the most romantic of them all. The willingness to kill for love, whether that love was a girl or some diamonds, is the purest of loves. Not the cookie cutter love most beings share nowadays, having sex and moving on.
I digress. I'm getting carried away with myself here. The point being, I understand where Rabies stands. I know what it's like to be under the influence of a life better lived, but I don't dare allow my dreams to smog my judgement. To hoard the past and to fight for the future are two different ideals. The Curators do the first, and that is why they find themselves running and defending themselves all the time. I make progress in this world only because building a brighter future means more to me than holding onto past memories.
America has become a bleeding wound because people dream too much, instead of using action. The only way to stop the wound from bleeding is to do what is asked of us. What is being asked of Rabies is not easy, but it must be met with the right answer. She must break with her past and believe in the future that will come after bloodshed and destruction. If she cannot handle it, I will care for her. I will care for her the only way I know how, and it may seem vicious, but it is all I can do to help her help society.
With gun in face she will direct us towards the Curators. Towards the answers. Towards our future.